Sunday, 17 March 2013


Skript 160313: While sitting in Waverley building, Nottingham (UK)

so I am more careful with choosing my letters, fingers stuttering on keyboard, finding their way in unknown territory, as if improvising the words, the keyboard a new field of grass to lie on a place for us to be anew
and in the grass i find my feet i roll and laugh, and i  and  i  and we   could sprout  or we could bloom blow  and my shoulders could become wider about right now wider and more open, opening my shoulders i feel the breath begin to flow and the space behind my back is full of voices and it braces my thoughts into the screen. yes, braces my eyes into the screen, i smell smoke, hear voices, feel the cool air on my arms and yet i feel you present here with me, feel him standing next to you…


 The corner of the eye,,, the feet in the eye to my right tight . write. write? they shift. drawn to the eye to my right,,, i note the way in which my body sides just a little to the side… the side to the right. where is the fun in writing? question! ? mark  can i find the fun in the flutter of my heart boom boom boom yes yes yes doom doom domm and i feel like singing.  laaaaaaa laaaa. the rise in the chest as the air in drawn in .. and

pause… haaaaaaaaaaaaa dropping exhaling.. failing and sailing … the wind in the body bidy body… l feel the sails full… expanding as I consider them. them. em. hm hm hm with a breath from the nostrils 


smiles cheekbones and eyes meeting for milliseconds. and in the moment… the eyes meeting … i notice the gaze upon the keyboard and upon the screen.. drawing in like a hoover sucking up the dust from the floor

words as dust dust patterns upon the screen drawn like moths to the light.

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